


Here We Go Again

by written_in_blood



Series: Galahad, the Ambassador [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce is tired of getting kidnapped, Eggsy Unwin as Galahad, Eggsy is smart, Harry Hart as Arthur, Implied Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, M/M, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/written_in_blood/pseuds/written_in_blood
Summary: Bruce gets kidnapped by the Vipers, a rising villain organization that wishes to harness the Other Guy's abilities. In the week he is held captive, Bruce manages to make friends with his guard, a young cockney boy by the name of Greg. Little does he know that this new face is really Gary, a Knight of the Round Table.





	Here We Go Again

His guard today was a polite, young Brit with a mope of casually swiped brown hair and a military set in his shoulders. The boy was silent besides his short exchanges with the other guards during shift changes and his initial greeting of Bruce.

 

“Good mornin’,” he spoke shortly before turning to stand his post at Bruce’s specialized cell. At first, he was insulted at the treatment. Shoved in there and fed through the slot in the door three times a day in meager portions. He wasn't even allowed a shower but the change of clothes every two days helped.

 

They wanted the Other Guy, that was obvious by the size and durability of the cell, and the guards carried a stun or mass tranquilizer gun depending on their shift. If they wanted his friend, it wasn't going to happen because by now, Bruce had more control over his green side. With enough time in the peaceful cell, he learned how helpful meditation was to curb his anger.

 

But at least his guard was nice. That was definitely an upside.

 

“Are you allowed to tell me the weather today?” Bruce questioned, hoping that the guard could hear him and truly had an answer to give.

 

A short laugh was his first response. Sort of a carefree laugh as if unexpecting of the question. “Really, guv? Outa efrything you could ask, you want the weather?” The guard laughed again but Bruce came to the conclusion quickly that it was surprise rather than mocking. “It's cold, like real cold. I ain't used to this kinda weather but at least it's not raining, yaknow?”

 

Bruce contemplated the answer. Since it was summer in America, he would either have to be in the north or just plain in Canada. He had been driven somewhere so at least he was in the same hemisphere.

 

“Are you from England?”

 

“Ya, London. Is it my accent, guv?”

 

It was Bruce’s turn to laugh. “Yeah. Kind of telling.”

 

That prompted the scientist’s curiosity. How did a boy from England, London no less, with a military stance and a cockney slurring become a guard for an underground association in the northern americas? It sounded like there is a larger story to be seen there.

 

“I speak all proper-like near my… father because he's a real stickler about it but it ain't my cuppa,” the boy offered, sending a glance over his shoulder to Bruce’s hunched form on his seat. “He gets so ruffled when I speak to ‘is friends but that only makes it bette’.”

 

They had a comfortable silence riding for a few moments before Bruce spoke again. “Is there any change you can tell me where we are?”

 

“On one condition: you tell me ya name.”

 

Bruce was shocked. Not only was the guard going to tell him information that he was 99.99% he wasn't supposed to have, but the boy didn't know who exactly he was guarding. “Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

 

He heard a sharp intake of breath and prepared for the usual reaction.

 

“Doctor Bruce Banner? Like, the scientist? Guv, I have read your paper over the Advancement of Gamma Radiation. Some sick stuff, bruv.” That was not the reaction he expected. “Stole that papers from my father’s office but I fink he knew ‘twas me and just let me get ‘way wif it.” The boy sounded positively excited, a science geek by some standard.

 

“You've read my work?” Bruce asked slightly redundantly, shocked by this advancement.

 

“Yep! Bet I don't sound like it, though. I just really like what you've done in the field of science. A true pioneer. Oh, and we are in Nunavut, Canada.”  
  


~

  


Bruce liked Greg, his polite-and slightly geeky-British guard. After a few days on site, the boy became his regular guard and they spent those hours filling the usual silence with animated debate and conversation. He learned more about the boy himself: ex-navy, son of an aristocrat-father-and a Scottish technician-mother, and an avid enthusiast of all things physics. Ex-gymnast and lover of Mathe. Needless to say, despite their obvious side differences, they got along fairly well. Bruce discovered, with a sneaking suspicion, that the boy wasn't even on the Viper's side no matter who signed his paycheck.

 

“I ain't nobody’s,” the boy had said one day with an easy smirk.

 

It didn't quite matter, anyway. The day Bruce was found, by the Avengers no doubt, he would argue that Greg could be let go with a slap on the wrist version of justice-years in prison-instead of Natasha’s version of justice-the end of her dagger.

 

A gunshot knocked Bruce out of his thoughts.

 

“Guv, back up!” Greg shouted into the cell before unlocking the door and swinging the door open with urgency. “Come!” He exclaimed as the gunshots continued to go off. Then with a flourish that Bruce came to associate with Greg, he violently kicked the door as wide as possible then turned and sprinted down the hall.

 

Brushing off the initial shock, Bruce yanked himself off his cot and followed after his guard.

 

“Galahad, status report!” A distant feminine yell carried over to the running pair.

 

A black-clad inner guard came bursting from another door beside Bruce and Greg didn't even stop to aim his umbrella- _where did he get an umbrella; that was definitely not covered in orientation-_ and shot off a perfectly aimed stun pellet over his shoulder. The non lethal bullet caught the man in the temple. They continued to run.

 

Panicked scientists poured around them and Bruce was amazed at how little attention the geniuses payed them in their own rush.

 

“Galahad, approaching Alpha point!” Greg yelled and another black-clad guard came through the surging scientists, gun raised. Greg kicked a table, full sized metal monstrosity covered in an attempt in science, into the man and the guard went spiraling over beakers and an odd telescope. “Lancelot, status report!”

 

Bruce watched, captivated, as Greg continued to go toe to toe with various guards, some armed, some not. He took each one to the floor in a nonlethal manner and cocky flourish.

 

That was, until a woman, dressed in a pinstripe suit and a large pair of bifocals Bruce felt the need to note, flipped over Greg’s moved table and came to stand beside him. “Doctor Banner?” She questioned and he recognized her voice as the one yelling earlier. He nodded. “Merlin, we have the package and a hostage. No, not our hostage. Their hostage. Get off the line, Morgana,” she seemed to devolve into an argument with herself.

 

“Lancelot, ready for extraction?” Greg called and she snapped around to punch an approaching assailant in the face. Nice form.

 

Looking upon her and forgetting the subtle differences like hair colour, Bruce couldn't help but be reminded of a younger Natasha. Then she smirked and the thought was cemented. “Ready.”

  


~

  


“Galahad. Lancelot. I don't remember ‘blow up the compound’ being in the operation brief.”

 

They were being stared down by an intimidating man of maybe fifty years with a hardened glare but Bruce could see a sliver of amusement hidden in his eyes. The process was a whirlwind and he had yet to come to the conclusion of whether or not he could trust Greg-or Galahad as the other two called him-after everything.

 

Their trip was definitely fun, though. A quick evacuation of the scientists just doing their job and then the two fighters disappeared, returning a very short while later with huge smiles and yelling _run!_ Watching the explosion from a distance, he could still distinctly hear Greg’s clear laugh as his partner whooped and hollered. Then they caught an awkwardly quiet and unmarked, black cab for a while. Bruce couldn't help but think at least it was clean.

 

It opened in front of a small building that Bruce suspected was their safe house where an angry man stood at the door. “Arthur!” Greg choked out.

 

“Good evening, Doctor Banner. We will have you back to your people very soon,” the older British man greeted and Bruce just managed a curt nod. Then the man turned to a sheepish Greg. “Galahad, the package.” A small flash drive passed hands.

 

“Arthur,” Greg began and the older man gave him a calculated look.

 

“Now, Doctor Banner. Galahad, as he has become a sort of ambassador for your people, I will allow him to escort you to your proper living conditions.”

 

Galahad gave him an easy smile and began to turn back to the unmarked car as his partner dragged herself into the safe house. “Com’on, Guv.”

  
~

  


“Guv.” Bruce turned to Greg, no, Galahad. He learned very quickly that ‘Greg’ had only been a false identity for the ease of the operation. “You live with the Avengers.” It wasn't quite a question but Bruce could see the shock in the younger man’s eyes as his gaze traced the Tower.

 

It didn't require a response but Galahad seemed to need confirmation. “Yes. I am one.”

 

“Shite, Doc. That's cool. Well, I will take you inside.” They exited the vehicle, not paying the driver though Bruce suspected the action would be redundant anyway, and made their way to the front door.

 

Much to Bruce’s surprise, when the two stepped inside the Tower’s lobby, J greeted them distinctly with his disembodied. “Good evening, Mister Galahad. Doctor Banner.”

 

“Hey, J!” The boy called up to the ceiling.

 

Bruce gave him a long, curious look. “When your boss said you were something of an ambassador…” He trailed off at the sight of Natasha barreling out of the elevator with pure murder in her eyes. “Hey, Nat.”

 

“ _Idi syuda, suka, blyacl,_ ” she hissed as she approached, tugging Bruce into a side hug for a second. “Tony went crazy trying to get you back but Fury banned us from a nuclear roadtrip looking for you.”

 

The vision of an insane Tony, sleep deprived and slightly tipsy as he combed over video after video, flashed in Bruce’s mind. He had seen it before when a particularly dedicated assassin had nicked Clint in the shoulder, when they lost communications with Natasha after a mission in Serbia, when Sam had disappeared for a week or two after a mishap in the field, all on different occasions. He managed a guilty laugh. “I am sorry, Nat. I will try to reduce my seasonal kidnappings for the mental sake of the team.”

 

She laughed lightly then turned her gaze to Greg. Bruce expected a question or two and wasn't quite ready for her sly smile. “Galahad. How's Arthur?”

 

The boy’s cheeks went red. “Fine. Nice to see you again, Miss Romanov.” There was something else in his voice that Natasha obviously caught but Bruce let the interaction go, already ready to trudge up to his floor and take a week long nap. “Well, this is where I will be off. Merlin will be in touch with your handler, Miss Romanov, to give the mission debrief and explain thoroughly what took place this past week. So long, Miss Romanov.”

 

Natasha gave a deadly smile. “Natasha, if you would, Guinevere.”

 

The boy couldn’t speed walk away fast enough.


End file.
